


Beautifully Bound

by kinksock22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Bondage, Bottom Sam, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Rimming, Top Dean, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5937181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinksock22/pseuds/kinksock22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for this prompt at the kink meme: <i>For Sam's sixteenth birthday, Dean ties him up - face down with his hands behind his back, his perky little ass up in the air, and Dean's going to fuck him sweet and deep.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautifully Bound

Dean smirks, his eyes dragging down the long curve of Sam’s back, the dip of his spine, the rise of his perfect, perky little ass. Sam squirms, tugging uselessly at the rope tied around his wrists, shoulders and biceps flexing deliciously, distractingly. Dean watches the play of lean muscles for a few moments, one hand resting on the back of Sam’s neck, fingers idly, absentmindedly teasing through the already sweat-damp curls stuck to his nape. He’s fucking beautiful like this, chest against the mattress, ass up in the air, legs wide open, spread out all for Dean. _Just_ for Dean.  
  
They’ve been fooling around for two years now, steadily progressing from dry-humping and making out to fumbled hand-jobs to messy blow jobs. All of it leading up to this point. Sam’s been hinting since almost the beginning, outright asking for the last year, begging the last six months. Dean always managed to hold out – hardest fucking thing he’s ever done in his _life_ – somehow able to deflect or distract, pushing Sam off with promises of _when you’re older_.  
  
Now, well now, Dean just can’t wait anymore. He’s been holding off for two freaking _years_ , he deserves a damn medal; Sam’s like a freaking dog with a bone when he wants something and Dean is only fucking human. So Dean caved and promised Sam for his sixteenth birthday that they’d finally do it.  
  
And that’s where they are now.  
  
Dad’s been gone three days on a – at least – two-week hunt and Sam had woken him up stupidly early this morning, naked and hard, all dimpled smiles, dark eyes and grabby hands, for the first time _ever_ not mopey and pissy about Dad missing yet another important event. Dean had flipped him over onto his stomach and grabbed the rope from his duffel, quickly tied his wrists together at the small of his back, totally prepared to leave the little shit there, trussed-up and wanting, until Dean got some damn breakfast. Or at least some freaking coffee. But seeing Sam like that quickly derailed Dean’s plans and he found himself blindingly hard in seconds, hands sliding over every inch of warm, baby-soft skin.  
  
“Dean,” Sam huffs predictably. Kid never really did learn the meaning of the word patience. “C’mon.”  
  
“Easy, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, sliding his hand up into Sam’s hair, fingers fisting in the silky-soft strands. He bends down, using the hold to turn Sam’s head toward him, flashing his brother a smile before sliding their lips together. Sam moans into the kiss, eagerly trying to deepen it, but Dean pulls away, his other hand rubbing soothing circles into the small of Sam’s back. “Easy,” he repeats.  
  


Sam settles – for the moment at least – blinking up at him owlishly, muscles slowly starting to relax. “That’s it, baby boy,” Dean smiles, brushing one more kiss to Sam’s lips before moving to settle between his spread legs.  
  
He slides his hands up Sam’s thighs, over the curve of his ass to his hips, fingers kneading, digging into flesh and muscle. Sam mewls softly, arches his back, hips wiggling slightly. Dean huffs out a quiet chuckle and dips down, presses a kiss to the small of Sam’s back. He should’ve known that his brother wouldn’t stay still for long.  
  
Palming both cheeks of Sam’s ass, Dean gently spreads him open, his cock twitching at the sight of Sam’s tiny, pink hole. For the last few months, ever since Dean broke down and agreed to finally fuck Sam on his sixteenth birthday, he’s been fingering Sam, hoping to get him used to it – and to also give him a chance to change his mind, even though Dean never admitted it. Sam freaking _loves_ it, goes crazy every time he feels Dean’s fingers brush against his rim. The thought that this time he’ll actually be fucking Sam, that he’ll finally be sinking his cock into the tight, clutching heat of Sam’s body is enough to make his freaking head spin.  
  
Surprisingly, Sam goes still, aside from his heaving back and the slight tremor of his whole body. Dean gently kneads the firm, muscular globes and leans over, presses a kiss to Sam’s shoulder. “You sure ‘bout this, Sammy?” Dean asks softly.  
  
“Yes,” Sam whispers back, turning his head enough to look back at Dean over his shoulder, flashing him a small, sweet smile.  
  
Dean nods and brushes a kiss to his lips before pulling away, settling once again on his heels. Sam’s still looking awkwardly over his shoulder and Dean throws him a wink before dipping down and pressing a kiss to the meat of his ass. Sam squirms a bit, his nose wrinkling and Dean chuckles softly. He waits a few seconds for Sam to settle and relax again – as much as he can with his arms still tied behind his back – then dips down, his tongue darting out to lick a thick, wet stripe up the cleft of Sam’s ass, from the back of his balls up to the small of his back.  
  
“Dean,” Sam gasps, part surprise, part confusion, part pleasure. “Wha-”  
  
Dean licks him again, slower, dragging his tongue over Sam’s rim, effectively cutting off whatever Sam was about to say. Sam gasps again, his knees sliding against the cheap cotton sheet, ass tilting higher in the air. Dean smirks, pulls Sam open just a little more and swirls his tongue around the furled muscle of Sam’s entrance, feeling it flutter beneath his touch. The sweat-salty, slightly musky flavor of pure _Sam_ makes Dean moan and push closer, pretty much burying his face between Sam’s cheeks, licking at his hole over and over again.  
  
“Oh God,” Sam groans, his body going pliant even as he pushes back against Dean’s tongue.  
  
Dean feels him slowly starting to loosen and pushes his tongue inside Sam as far as he can, another moan tearing from his throat. Sam mewls, pushing back harder, obviously enjoying the vibration. Dean closes his eyes and hums, just to hear that sound again and Sam doesn’t disappoint.  
  
“Oh fuck,” Sam blurts out, shoulders twisting as he starts uselessly pulling at the rope again. “Dean, please. More…” He sounds so desperate, already freaking _wrecked_ , and a fresh burst of arousal shoots down Dean’s spine. “ _Please_.”  
  
Dean pulls away, rubbing Sam’s hip when he outright whines. “Easy, Sammy,” Dean rasps. “I got’cha, little brother.” Sam’s whole body jerks violently and a harsh moan tears from his throat. It honestly takes Dean a second or two to figure out why – assuring Sam and calling him little brother is mostly just an automatic response, he sure as hell didn’t really mean to do it – and he can’t help but smirk, hands rubbing and kneading Sam’s hips and sides. It takes a few long moments but Sam settles back down and Dean smiles, leans over and presses a kiss to the side of his head. “That’s my good boy,” he whispers.  
  
Sam keens, turns his head to catch Dean’s lips in a fierce, dirty kiss. Dean brings one hand up, curls his fingers into the wavy mess of Sam’s hair, tugs just slightly and Sam moans into his mouth, tongues sliding together wet and filthy. Sam’s squirming in earnest now, trying to touch Dean or touch himself, Dean’s not sure, but he’s not ready to let Sam go just yet. He may be wrong, _this_ may be wrong, but he can’t deny that he loves seeing Sam all trussed-up and desperate, just for him.  
  
Sam eventually pulls away, breaking the kiss with a breathless gasp. “Please, Dean,” he begs, whisper-soft and so fucking pretty.  
  
Dean nods and brushes a kiss to Sam’s forehead before kneeling once again between his legs. His hands shake, just slightly, when he grabs the bottle of lube lying on the bed next to Sam’s knee, his cock twitching almost painfully when he slicks up his fingers. He teases around the spit-tacky rim of Sam’s hole before pushing one finger inside slowly, carefully. Sam sighs, his eyes fluttering closed, back arching to tilt his hips back even more. Dean takes his time, working Sam open thoroughly, until he can take three fingers easily, moaning and cursing and begging for more. Dean brushes against the swollen mound of his prostate, once, twice then a third time and Sam cries out hoarsely, whole body trembling, his inner muscles fluttering and clenching around Dean’s fingers as he comes, cock completely untouched.  
  
Dean slowly pulls his fingers away, pressing a kiss to the small of Sam’s back when his brother whimpers. Sam looks over his shoulder, blinking owlishly, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of pink. “Thought we were gonna…” he trails off, biting down on his bitten-red bottom lip.  
  
“We are,” Dean murmurs. Sam frowns, his nose wrinkling adorably, his eyes skeptical. “Promised didn’t I?” Dean adds. Sam’s face smooths out and he nods, flashes Dean a smile, just a hint of his dimples.  
  
Dean grabs the lube again and slicks up his own cock, forcing his hands steady because Sam’s still watching him. Dean’s had a lot of sex in his life but he can admit that he’s nervous, even more nervous than he was during his own first time. But he’ll be damned if he shows it, lets Sammy see. Sam’s still at the age where he mostly still follows Dean’s lead on things and Dean needs for Sam to believe that he’s calm so that Sam’ll stay calm.  
  
Dean glances up and flashes Sam a smile and a wink before looking back down at what he’s doing, his hand steadying his cock at the base, the leaking, flushed-red head pressing against Sam’s slick, loosened entrance. Dean pauses for just a moment and looks up at his brother again. “You sure ‘bout this? Really sure?” Dean asks softly. Sam nods and Dean can tell he’s just barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Ready?” Sam nods again.  
  
Despite the awkward angle, Sam keeps watching him. His eyes widen, lips parting, when Dean starts to push forward. He sucks in a slightly pained breath and holds it and despite the overwhelming pleasure, the tight, wet heat surrounding him, Dean pauses, just the tip inside. “Breathe, baby,” Dean rasps, rubbing soothing circles on the small of Sam’s back. Sam does as he’s told, inhaling deeply, exhaling slow and shaky a few times, and Dean can feel the vice-like pressure start to ease. “That’s it, Sammy,” he coos, sliding his hands up Sam’s sweat-slick back, down his arms, fingers brushing over his bound wrists.  
  
Sam turns his head back around and settles against the pillow, his body slowly – oh so slowly – starting to relax. Dean gives him as long as he needs, his jaw clenched tight enough that his teeth grind together to resist the stifling need to _move_.  
  
“Okay,” Sam breathes a few long moments later. “’s okay. ‘m okay.”  
  
Dean slowly pushes forward, stopping whenever Sam tenses up even the slightest – even though Sam huffs and tells him he’s fine. He lets out a shaky breath when he’s finally buried to the hilt, staring at where they’re connected, unable to stop himself from lightly tracing the tip of one finger around Sam’s rim where it’s stretch wide around his cock. Sam inhales deeply, lets it out in a stuttering exhale and clenches down experimentally. Dean’s eyes slam closed, his cock twitching violently and suddenly he just can’t wait any longer.  
  
“Sammy,” Dean breathes, hands grabbing his brother’s lean hips, fingers digging in hard enough that he knows he’s leaving behind bruises. “Fuck, Sam. I…”  
  
“Do it,” Sam moans, cutting off whatever Dean was going to say – apology, admission, plea, he’s not even sure.  
  
Dean swallows thickly and nods even though Sam isn’t looking at him. The first few thrusts are slow and tentative but Sam starts pushing back against him, gasping and mewling and making the most beautiful sounds that Dean has ever heard, and Dean falls into a rhythm, pulling out almost all the way then slamming back in. He slowly picks up the pace, one hand still on Sam’s hip, the other drawn to his brother’s bound wrists, fingers curling around the rope.  
  
“Fuck, baby,” Dean moans, unable to tear his gaze away from where he’s splitting his brother open, watching as his thick, lube-slick cock stretches him wide open. “So fuckin’ good, Sam.”  
  
“More, Dean,” Sam breathes, struggling to push back harder, faster. Dean obeys, picking up the pace, the angle of his hips shifting just barely. Sam chokes on a broken moan, his hands clenching into useless fists against the small of his own back. “ _Fuck_. Right there… God, Dean. Touch me? Please?”  
  
Dean carefully curls himself over Sam’s back – mindful of his tied wrists – and slides one arm around his waist, surprised to find Sam hard and leaking again. Or maybe still. Bless teenage hormones and quick refractory periods. Dean wraps his fingers around the base of Sam’s cock, stroking him in time with the pounding of his hips. He barely gets in a handful of strokes before Sam cries out, his dick twitching and jerking in Dean’s hand, his release adding to the mess of his previous orgasm on the sweat-drenched sheet. Dean grits his teeth and works his brother through it, barely holding on himself. The clenching and fluttering of Sam’s inner muscles around his cock is almost painful it’s so good and he knows he’s not going to be able to hold out much longer.  
  
Sam melts into the mattress, whole body going pliant even as he’s still wracked with aftershocks. Dean loses all sense of rhythm, mindlessly rutting against his brother’s ass, chasing his own climax. He groans, pushing in deep, and comes so hard he’s pretty sure he’s about to black out.  
  
Sam’s eyes flutter open and he looks back at Dean over his shoulder, a small, sated, sleepy grin curling up his lips. Dean flashes him a smile in return and presses a kiss to his shoulder, the back of his neck. They both groan when Dean pulls away and he immediately reaches for his knife beneath his pillow, cutting through the rope. Sam flops over onto his back, his nose wrinkling slightly when he moves. Dean can see a trickle of his own come leaking from Sam’s ass and even though he came harder than he ever remembers coming before, his cock gives an interested twitch.  
  
Sam stretches his arms over his head, brow furrowing when he moves his shoulders. Dean reaches for his wrists, checking to make sure he didn’t do any real damage. They’re red and a little raw but thankfully not bleeding. “You okay?” Dean asks softly, pressing a kiss to the inside of Sam’s wrist.  
  
“Little sore,” Sam murmurs, flashing him another sweet smile. “But good sore,” he adds. Before Dean can move or say anything, Sam pushes him down onto the mattress and curls up against his side, head resting on Dean’s chest. “Nothin’ a nap and a shower won’t fix,” Sam grins up at him, hazel eyes sparkling.  
  
Dean dips down and presses a kiss to Sam’s lips with a smile of his own. “Happy birthday, little brother,” he whispers into the kiss. Sam hums happily and snuggles closer.


End file.
